


My Happy Ending

by geeky__chick



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drunkeness, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kidnapping, Medical Trauma, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Romance, avengers antics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2638034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geeky__chick/pseuds/geeky__chick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Phase2/Pre-Age of Ultron)</p><p>With the Avengers Tower fully rebuilt, the team spends downtime together. </p><p>As everyone gets together, Steve Rogers' secret is revealed. Clint Barton is having a meltdown, which Natasha Romanoff is desperate to fix. </p><p>When one of their own is attacked, the Avengers must ban together in a new way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

            After the obligatory few days of admiring Tony Stark’s work on the refurbished Avengers’ Tower, they had all settled into the routine. Only a few of them actively _lived_ in the Tower, but it always seemed filled with people. Being one of the few around-the-clock residents, Steven Rogers wasn’t all that surprised to see new faces when he decided to hit the common areas for breakfast instead of eating alone.

            Usually he ate alone, because Banner liked to eat in his lab. Stark split his and his girlfriend’s time between Malibu and New York, but they were here this morning. Thor, accompanied by his bubbly companion Doctor Jane Foster, had flown in the previous week, prepared for battle in case the Hydra rumblings Steve reported turned out to be more.

            It was typical, he thought, that the one time he decided to do something for himself, the entire damn team would show up.

            As Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff entered, he inwardly sighed. They were dirty and battered from their most recent mission, but they trudged into the kitchen to say hello. While Banner fried bacon and Jane made eggs, the lull of conversation jumped up several octaves.

            Stark was making jokes, Thor was laughing, Banner and Foster were talking science, Barton and Natasha explained their short mission in low tones.

            None of this mattered. Sure, he would have liked a much less active audience when he revealed that he wasn’t as innocent as they all thought. Natasha still liked to push him into dating, some eighteen months after SHIELD went belly up. He hadn’t chased the bait, even when Stark started the rumor that he must be a 90 year old virgin.

            What they didn’t know…

            “Captain Rogers.”

            The smooth voice of Jarvis – Starks’ artificially intelligent computer system that ran the tower – broke into his reverie.

            “Yes, Jarvis?” He hid the smirk, but couldn’t quite soothe his pounding heart.

            “Your visitor has arrived.” Jarvis continued, unhindered by the fact that the others were now staring at Steve. “I’ve run the biometric scan and sent the lift down.”

            “Thank you, Jarvis.” Steve finished his coffee before standing.

            “Visitor?” Natasha asked, brightening. “Is Wilson here?”

            “Wilson’s been scanned.” Barton chimed in with a grin. “Who’s coming to visit, Cap?”

            In his usual quiet way, Steve said nothing. He walked to the sink to rinse out his cup before setting it on the drainer. For a moment, he leaned against the sink, willing his heart rate to slow down at least a little. He hated having to explain, having to unravel the lies and lies by omission he had held close to his chest since before the fall of SHIELD.

            “Cap?” This time it was Tony, with an edge of concern to his tone.

            Foster and Banner had even looked up from the stove, the sound of popping grease and the bubbling coffee maker were the only things to break the silence.

            Steve turned to his friends, smiling at each of them in turn. From Pepper Potts to Clint Barton, they all meant something to him, even if he wasn’t sure what it was. He counted them as friends and he was now contemplating letting them in on the biggest thing his life had to offer.

            “If I were to ask you, all of you, to give me five hours, could you do it? No questions, no wisecracks, no interruptions. Just five hours and then I will explain everything; answer every question you might have. Do you think you can do that?”

            He was met with a sea of faces. Some were intrigued, others confused, and Stark looked positively frightened. Steve wiped his hands on one of the dish cloths, glancing up as the elevator dinged that it had arrived on the common kitchen’s floor.

            Since no one had answered, Steve chuckled.

            “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

            The elevator doors slid open, with Jarvis’ cool voice telling the rider that she was on floor 35. Steve was already making his way down the small case of steps that led from the kitchen and dining area to the game room. His smile was immediate and very, very telling. It was torture to be away for longer than a day and Steve’s fruitless search for Bucky had taken him over a year.

            “There you are.”

            Her voice reached his ears a beat before she landed in his arms. Steve hauled her teeny form up until she was in kissing reach, then tangled one hand in her long hair to capture her mouth with his. She giggled into his kiss, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck as he immediately backed her into the elevator. He couldn’t hear anything coming from the kitchen, but that didn’t matter.

            Emma’s kiss was heady, familiar, and Steve felt his knees go weak. He inhaled through his nose to keep her close a little longer, forward progress stopping when her back hit the wall of the elevator. The door slid closed, but Jarvis did not move the elevator for several moments. Steve was too consumed with the creature in his arms, the feel of her after so long away.

            “Hi.” Emma said when they parted for air, her dark eyes dancing with mirth. “Missed me, huh?”

            Panting for breath, Steve smiled back, holding her chin with his knuckle. “You have no idea. Jarvis?”

            “Yes, Captain Rogers?”

            “32nd floor.” Steve ordered, his hand sliding back into Emma’s hair. “Make it fast.”

            Emma was still giggling when Steve took her mouth again.

           

 

~~*~~

            “What are you thinking about?”

            Steve looked down to the dark gaze of the woman he loved as she rested her chin on his chest. He raised a hand, unable to help but touch since she was finally in touching distance. They hadn’t left his suite in four hours, since barely making it through the front door. Clothes became the enemy, ripped apart by his super strength when he couldn’t take another moment of sublime torture. Emma, for her part, had managed to get her lover on his back more than once. Steve wasn’t really going to complain about that.

            His bed was devoid of blankets or pillows, anything that might have hindered their passion. His bedclothes were on the floor, along with the scrap of her jeans and his shirt and anything else that needed to get out of the way. Captain America had waited eighteen damn months to see her again. Clothing now landed at the top of his hit list, even above Hydra.

            “They kept their promise.” Steve replied, tucking his free hand under his head. “The others.”

            Emma tossed a curious glance toward the bedroom door, her dark brow arched when she looked back to him. “Did you remember to secure it?”

            “No.” Steve answered, tugging on an ebony curl. “I could barely stand by the time the elevator dropped us here.”

            “So, if they had tried, they could have walked right in?” The woman asked with a grin.

            “Yep.”

            “And they didn’t?”

            “Nope.”

            “Aww.” Emma chuckled. “They like you, Cap’n.”

            Steve gave his lover a mock scowl, using his serum-laced strength to grasp her by the arms. Emma released one breathless giggle before he set his fingertips to her ribcage, tickling the woman for all he was worth. Her laughter rang off the walls of his Avengers apartment, filling him with a sedate feeling. Had he ever thought this day would come? Wouldn’t she have found someone else while he was off chasing ghosts and fighting aliens?

            No. Emma remained in Washington, waiting for the message that would bring them back together.

            When she cried for mercy, Steve punctuated his tickle-fit with a kiss. Emma melted into his embrace, sprawling out over his chest. She’d never had an ounce of resistance, Steve thought, to his kisses. She always went pliant in his arms; as though she lost the will to do anything but kiss him back. Steve found that thought made him a little gooey in the middle as well.

            A rumble from the direction of his stomach, though, broke their smooch apart with laughter.

            “Well,” Emma chuckled as she bounced off of the bed. “I think I ought to feed you.”

            “We leave this room,” Steve warned as her naked form bounced into the bathroom. “They’ll be on you like jackals. I only got us five hours of peace.”

            Emma was laughing as the shower turned on. He bit his lip, checked the clock, and rushed into the bathroom to join her.

 

~~**~~

            On silent feet, the Black Widow skimmed up the staircases. Lucky for her, Captain’s rooms were only two floors from the main living space, which meant she could beat the elevator. She’d been on sentry duty for the last hour of Steve’s cease-fire. No matter what anyone said, no one was going to bother him.

            They had never, ever seen Steve Rogers so intent on another human being. Even Natasha, who fought at his side for over two years, had no idea who the mystery brunette was.

            It seemed they were about to find out.

            “Incoming.” Natasha said as she stepped quietly into the kitchen.

            Tony Stark looked like a kid at Christmas, half excited about presents and half terrified he’d landed on the naughty list. From his position on the couch, with Pepper perched on his lap, he looked up in anticipation. Clint was playing cards with Thor, Jane, and Banner, the group attempting to teach the Asgardian how to play Gin. From the stack of chips on his side of the table, he was a quick study.

            Natasha took her seat beside Hawkeye, appropriating half of his chair as was custom. Clint turned towards her, quickly dealing her into the game without rushing. It was pointless, Natasha knew. Steve would know they were all waiting on him to emerge from his room with his ‘visitor’ so playing it cool wouldn’t accomplish anything.

            She guessed it was preferable to actually staring at the elevator.

            Clint smirked down at his cards as Jane whispered to Thor. The two shared a quiet laugh, their easy comfort around one another palpable. There was a current running pool on if or when the two would decide to get married. Natasha hadn’t taken the action simply because she found the flighty scientist hard to read. Banner offered her a small, almost secretive smile. For all his blushes and stammers, he had a killer sense of humor. Natasha fanned her cards in her hands, peering at the other man over the brim.

            He was rolling his eyes while Pepper tried to keep Tony on the couch.

            “We live,” Clint whispered to the table without changing expression. “In a high-tech frat house.”

            “Hear, hear.” Bruce agreed, shaking his head.

            When the elevator door finally hissed open, it took all of her training not to whip her head around to get a good look at the girl. Clint snorted into his cards, though he hid it well. Banner didn’t look, but Natasha could see it was killing him to stare down at the cards in his hand.

            Jane, Thor, Tony, and Pepper didn’t even try.

            “Five hours on the dot, Cap.” Tony said as he managed to peek over the back of the couch. “That’s pretty precise.”

            “A man has to eat.” The first Avenger said lightly.

            Natasha lifted her eyes after counting to ten, immediately noticing that Clint raised his gaze at the exact same moment.

            Steve’s friend was petite, but well-built without the waif-like quality of Doctor Foster. She looked like she could handle herself in a fight, though her movements said she’d had no formal training. Her skin was tanned, her hair dark, eyes the color of cocoa. Her features were delicate, but round, well placed on a heart shaped face. She wasn’t a knockout beauty, but there was something pretty there, something that told Natasha was exactly Steve’s type.

            They were both dressed down, in casual jeans and t-shirts. While Steve’s was blank, his companion’s had the A&M logo printed on the front, though faded with time. Her dark hair was still damp, thrown into a quick ponytail.

            The couple looked like they’d stepped out of a car insurance ad, all American good looks and comfort. Cute.

            “Everyone,” Steve greeted as they walked into the kitchen, hand in hand. “This is Emma Andrews. Emma, this is everyone.”

            He went down the list, indicating to each person and offering a name. Emma shook hands with everyone except for Thor, who kissed her knuckles in a gentlemanly fashion. The blush that rose on the other woman’s cheeks was just enough to be endearing without seeming false.

            Natasha held her gaze when the woman came over to shake her hand. She felt an odd sort of responsibility for Steve Rogers, so she wasn’t going to trust this girl until she had proved it.

            “You must be Natasha.” Emma said lightly. There was a hint of suspicion there. _Good_. “Steve has told me a lot about you. All of you, really.”

            “That’s funny.” Stark interjected indelicately. “Because he hasn’t mentioned you at all.”

            “Ever,” Clint chimed in.

            “Guys.” Trying to diffuse the sudden tension, Jane stood up. “Let’s just take a step back.”

            Pepper piped up from her place beside Tony as well. Natasha realized everyone seemed to have moved to surround the newcomer, as though one wrong move would mean her sudden and swift death. Knowing this group, if this random woman tried to hurt their Captain, she’d be dead before she took a step.

            Why was that so comforting?

            “Steve told us he would answer any questions,” Pepper reminded them all in her easy way. “Why don’t we make some coffee while the Cap fills us in?”

            The look Steve sent to the blonde woman was filled with warmth, and thanks. Clint tapped Natasha’s thigh under the table, sending her a quick look that spoke of mistrust mingled with amusement.

            “I’m ok with that.” The woman identified as Emma said lightly. “I’ll give you my specs, the computer can run my background, and Steve can tell you why I was kept in the closet like an old broom for the last couple of years.”

            “ _Years?_ ” It was Bruce’s turn to speak and he turned sharply. “Years?”

            “Sweetheart.” Steve cautioned. “You were never an old broom.”

            Clint snorted under his breath again, abandoning his cards so he could prop an elbow on the table, then drop his chin into his palm. “Need a shovel, Cap?”

            “I think I’m doing great on my own, actually.” The other man muttered.

            Natasha could feel the tension rising with every breath. No one quite knew what to do with this new information, especially since they all thought Captain America was the least likely to lie to them. Hell, Natasha had tried to set him up with everyone but the janitor for the better part of two-years with absolutely no luck.

            _Was that your first kiss since 1945?_

He’d said no, hadn’t he? Natasha fought the urge to smile. Damn him. He hadn’t lied to her face, not once.

            “We should be content with what Captain Rogers wants to tell us,” Thor cut in suddenly. “We are not required to know everything that happens in his life. With threats of war and the fall of SHIELD, it is understandable that he would keep this close to his heart.”

            “And,” Jane added because she seemed to always need to back up Thor. “He’s been gone off and on for the last year with Falcon, trying to find his friend. He hasn’t exactly had time to relax.”

            Bruce decided to get involved, then, sliding out of his chair and offering it to the dark haired woman. “I’ll make some coffee. Dr. Foster? Why don’t we get dinner started and let the Captain acquaint us with his friend?”

            Jane beamed, bouncing from her lover’s side to Banner’s. Natasha caught the small, indulgent smile that crossed Thor’s face when he looked at her. She shared a slight roll of her eyes with Clint. Her friend nudged her knee with his under the table, shifting so the newcomer wasn’t sitting as close to them as they allowed Banner.

            Steve put his hand on his girlfriend’s shoulder before taking the seat Thor had vacated. They held one another’s gazes for a moment, silently communicating in that curious way people with close relationships had. When their little conversation was done, Steve spoke.

            “Ok, fire away.”


	2. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint battles his own demons. Steve and Natasha hash out a few matters of the heart.

The hows and whys weren’t important, not really. Steve explained to his friends over a quickly put together stir-fry dinner that he had met Emma Andrews at a nearby library, where he was checking out books to further his ‘history education’. She’d flirted, he flirted back – though that was awkward – and a sort of dating relationship bloomed.

When Steve wasn’t engaged by SHIELD on mission, he spent most of his free time with Emma. She knew who he was, what he did, and understood it was imperative that they keep their relationship as secret as possible.

From what Clint gathered, there wasn’t much to dislike about the girl. Of course, he had only known of her existence for about a day.

Once the excitement wore off, they all fluttered back to their corners. Natasha declared she needed a shower, so she vanished soon after dinner was finished. Steve and Emma were keeping company with Pepper and Tony, while Thor and Jane disappeared to the Asgardian’s apartment. Banner went off to his lab, muttering something about gamma radiation. Clint remained at the table as long as he could stand the chattering. After about thirty minutes, he decided that was good enough for being social and headed for the elevator.

His entire body ached.

Their mission to locate a few wayward Hydra operatives had gone well, but they hadn’t been able to miss out on a little action. Clint rolled his shoulders as the elevator deposited him on his own floor. Well, he shared the 37th floor with Sam Wilson, but the other bird-inspired Avenger was away.

Making a mental note to feed the other man’s fish, which was an agreement they settled on several months ago, Clint keyed into his apartment. Jarvis didn’t bother warning him that someone was there, so he knew Natasha hadn’t slipped into his rooms to chat.

The argument they’d had during the mission wasn’t completely wiped away by Rogers’ suddenly having a social life. Even if they had teased and shared those lingering looks in the common area, he wasn’t out of trouble yet.

Natasha could hold a grudge like no other.

Clint stepped into the shower, leaving a trail of clothing in his wake. He removed his hearing aids, setting them on the sink’s counter while the world plunged into a noiseless void.

He cherished the silence as he stepped under the hot, heavy spray of his shower. Bracing both hands on the walls, he tried to drown out the voice that crept over his consciousness, even after three years. Loki. It always came back to Loki.

_Tell me about her. About your famous Black Widow._

_No. No, I won’t._

_You will, Agent Barton. Tell me all of her secrets, her fears._

He’d given in, though, given Loki that edge to compromise his best friend. Since that night in Paris so long ago, Natasha had never willingly left his side. Even on separate missions that might last months, they always had one another.

Until New York. Until Loki split open his mind and took it all away. Now someone else knew about the secrets of her past, the pain she had endured. Something evil knew all the ways to hurt her. Clint could not shuffle away the guilt he felt for his part in that terrible truth.

Clint had given Loki the one thing he needed to control him. Any threat against Natasha, any hint of hurting her, and his mental walls were in shambles. As Loki tortured him with images, scenarios, Clint couldn’t keep his own consciousness awake. It retreated, like a child fearing the night, to keep the badness away. That was all the edge Loki needed.

Once Loki was inside, there was nothing Clint wouldn’t give him.

Struggling, Clint forced the image of Loki from his mind. He knew, though, that tonight would bring the terrors. To buy his cooperation, Loki had given him visions of what would be done to Natasha, should he disobey. The image of her broken and bloody at his feet refused to leave him, even as the months went by and life moved on.

Clint would never get that out of his head.

He cleaned himself up as best he could, then inspected the damage to his shoulder while wrapped in a towel. He hadn’t dislocated it, but the bruising would almost be worse. The bruises would be ugly and nearly black by morning. Clint wouldn’t be wearing tank tops any time soon. From the strength of that Hydra agent, though, he was lucky he still had his arm.

Unfortunately for that agent, Natasha didn’t take someone bruising her ‘bird brain’ very well. There definitely wouldn’t be an open casket at that funeral.

Since there was nothing to take care of for now, Clint left his hearing aids out. Jarvis was programmed to vibrate his bed in a pulsing fashion if there was a call to a mission, and if someone needed him, they could gain emergency entry to his rooms. He didn’t need the aids, not when all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.

The assassin fell into his bed, pulling the deep violet sheets up to his chin. He hoped the nightmares would abate for just one night.

 

_She was fast. How could a human being be that fast? He ducked another blow, one that probably would have had his liver sitting next to him, sliding just out of her reach in time to throw his own punch._

_His sailed wide, and her knife caught him in the thigh. Clint cried out in pain, hating that they were here, that he couldn’t save her this time. The woman he knew was gone, there was nothing of her barbed warmth in those green eyes._

_All that remained was a void, an emptiness that he had never seen before._

_She came at him again, knife blazing. Clint was too slow. He took the blade to the shoulder, screaming as it tore into the muscle and tissue, leaving him without the use of one of his arms._

_“I’m sorry.” Clint whispered when he fell to his knees._

_She stood over him, a vision of fiery red hair and violent green eyes. He knew, in this moment, that if she killed him it wouldn’t end there. There was only one choice. Take the shot he missed ten years ago, take out the Black Widow._

_“I’m sorry, Natasha.”_

_He had hoped for her to flinch at her name. She did not. There really was nothing of her left. The remnants of the KGB that once created the Black Widow had succeeded this time. They took her from him, left her as an empty shell that he could no longer save. He didn’t want to do this. How could he do this?_

_In his head, he begged to wake up. Twisting and turning, rolling to avoid being hit again, Clint begged his mind to release him from the dream. He didn’t want this to be real. He couldn’t have lost her, not now. She was his, damn it. There was no more evil in her, only the desire to do good._

Please, don’t make me…

_But, if she got away, so many others would die. The choice was taken for him. Natasha was already dead. This wasn’t her._

_It wasn’t her._

_Clint pulled the gun from his ankle holster, closed his eyes and fired._

_The woman he knew as Natasha stopped suddenly, looking down almost curiously at the three bullet holes Clint had plugged into her chest. She stumbled. Without pause, Clint moved closer, heedless to his own blood loss. He caught her with his good arm, holding her to his chest as she wheezed with every breath._

_“I’m sorry.” Clint repeated, paying no mind to the tears that slid down his cheeks._

_“C-Clint.”_

_He pulled back, staring down at Natasha’s beautiful face in horror. There was recognition in her eyes. Long, dainty fingers he knew well curled into his jacket. She was there. She was still there. Clint had killed her._

_“I couldn’t stop.” Natasha coughed, bright red blood erupted from her lips, staining that beautiful mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s not your f-fault.”_

_“No! Natasha! Stay with me. No. Don’t go. Stay.” Clint rocked her in his arms, looking around wildly for help. What help could he expect in an old sewer, where he had lured the broken Widow to her death?_

_“C-Clint…”_

_His eyes found hers as she died. One spasm, another cough of red, and Natasha Romanoff was dead in his arms. Clint shook her, trying to rouse the woman he had saved, who saved him in return. She was gone, her body cold and lifeless._

_“No.” Clint buried his face into the hollow of her throat, not caring as her blood leaked into his clothes. “No. Natasha.”_

_With no regard for himself, Clint wept._

The room was quiet as Clint shook himself awake. Sweat had stained his sheets, rolling down his back as he managed to get himself out of bed. The dreams were becoming harder and harder to withstand. Every time, the only thing that remained the same was him killing Natasha.

And in her final moments, she remembered who he was.

As he stumbled toward the bathroom, Clint called for lights. Jarvis immediately illuminated his room. As he glanced at the mirror, he noted that the supercomputer was asking if he needed assistance.

Clint verbally told the computer he was fine.

He braced his hands on the sink, struggling to breathe. Natasha was alive. She hadn’t been taken and reprogrammed by the KGB. She was asleep in her rooms four floors down. Nothing had hurt her. Nothing would hurt her. She was the Black Widow. Half of their superhero roommates were terrified of her.

The assassin stared at his own reflection until his breathing regulated. Once he had a handle on the tumultuous emotions that ate at him, he searched the counter for his hearing aids.

He slid them into his ears, toweling the sweat from his body as he checked the clock. It was only eleven.

To hell with it. Clint was going out.

 

~~**~~

 

Steve found her on the balcony, staring out over the skyline of New York City. She was pretty, he thought, especially in quiet, pensive moments like this. When she had no walls up, when she was lost in her own thoughts, she was a lovely creature.

He’d seen her come into the common area an hour ago, looking around with that expression that Wilson Called “Hawk Face”. It was a simple expression of unease and distrust that only crossed Natasha’s face when she couldn’t locate Hawkeye. Barton had a similar face for the same reason, they called it “Nat-Dar”.

Though she hadn’t spoken, Steve knew something was wrong. The woman had retreated to the common area balcony, so he left Emma with Jane and Pepper to investigate.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Steve asked as he approached, his hands in his pockets.

“Mine cost a dollar.” Natasha said without turning. “Inflation, Cap.”

Chuckling at her joke, Steve knew it was alright to approach. Though he would never go so far as to say he _knew_ Natasha Romanoff, three years in her company with SHIELD did give him something of an advantage. Moments like this, when her guard was down, it was easy to hurt her. Still, she looked like she could use a friend.

He copied her position at the heavy concrete barrier that protected people who couldn’t fly from plummeting 34 floors. As Natasha leaned on her elbows, casually taking in the skyline, Steve did the same.

It was an open invitation to talk. Natasha didn’t always take him up on it, but for whatever reason, Steve always extended it. He liked the brash, brave, and bad ass assassin. She was loyal to a fault, someone he would readily trust his life with.

“So, Emma’s settling in.”

Oh, they were going to talk about that first. Ok.

“Yes, she is. She’s a writer, so she doesn’t have much in common with anyone else, but she’s pretty adaptive.”

“She’d have to be.” Natasha contemplated, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Hiding for two years, keeping that kind of secret and dodging SHIELD, Hydra, and Fury. Maybe she should be a spy.”

Steve laughed lightly at that, nudging Natasha familiarly with his shoulder. “None of that, thanks. She’s perfect the way she is.”

Natasha’s big green eyes made his knees weak. It was nothing to do with needing a woman or romance. There was just something in the depths of that beautiful emerald that laid a man bare, left him putty in her hands. How the hell did Barton deal with that on a daily basis?

“You’re in love, Cap.”

“Yep.” He replied with what he knew was a goofy grin. “I’m in love.”

Natasha’s eyes grew distant. “What is that like?”

Well, that was different. He had expected some teasing, some investigating into his relationship with Emma. It wasn’t so long ago, after all, that Steve was stammering a coffee invitation to Agent 13, whom he thought was only his neighbor. As it turned out, to everyone’s surprise, Steve wasn’t as bad with girls as they all made him out to be.

What’d they all think he did on that damn USO tour? Knit?

Still, he could answer this question honestly.

“Scary.” Steve answered. “Terrifying. The only other person I’ve ever loved is an old woman. But Emma’s fun. She’s noble and sweet and so damn infuriating I want to scream sometimes. But, in the end, she’s there for me and I’m there for her. We can just dive into whatever happens together. That’s the best part. I’m not alone. Even when I’m on a mission or I haven’t seen her in 18 months, I’m not alone.”

The silence was filled with meaning and things unsaid. Natasha had something specific on her mind, something she wasn’t sure how to handle. Steve continued to hold her gaze, wondering if there was anything he could do to help her through the rough spot in her life.

When, finally, she smiled, Steve offered a similar gesture in return.

“Thanks, Cap.” Natasha said, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Before she could walk away, though, Steve kicked himself. It was like poking a sleeping dragon, but he couldn’t let her walk away with those demons in her heart without at least offering to help.

Only one thing put a look like that on someone’s face.

“Does he know?” Steve asked before turning to face her.

Natasha stopped in her tracks, not looking back at him. He thought, for a moment, she would ignore the question. She didn’t owe him an answer, she didn’t have to tell him squat. That was her life, a part of her life that didn’t affect the team. Steve knew all about that. He had successfully hidden his own love life from them all.

By the set of Natasha’s slender shoulders, though, he felt that she needed to come clean to someone. Anyone. Since he happened to be outside at the moment, well, he would offer to be that someone.

“Does he know, Natasha, that you love him?”

She did not turn. Natasha was quiet for another long minute, the silence stretching between them like a living thing. He heard her inhale slowly, then expel the breath quickly.

“I don’t know, Steve.” The Russian assassin turned to face him, her hands stuffed into the pockets of the old leather coat she was wearing.

A coat, Steve thought with a jolt, that was at least two sizes too big. A man’s coat. _Clint Barton’s_ coat.

“You should tell him.”

“Why?” Natasha shot back. “Love is for children.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, leaning against the banister to cross his arms over his chest. “Love is for anyone brave enough to take it.”

For another long silence, Natasha and Steve merely stared at one another. He wasn’t sure if he had crossed a line, but he felt that she needed him to. They had a closer relationship than with any of the others, the exceptions being Sam Wilson and Clint himself. Natasha was teetering on the edge of something enormous. Steve wanted her to know there was a net waiting for the fall.

“On the mission,” Natasha said so suddenly Steve startled. “He jumped in front of a bullet for me. It deflected off of his armor, but if it hadn’t…that was a kill shot. He would have died. For me.”

Steve nodded, frowning a little as Natasha paused to gather her thoughts. It was painful, watching her struggle for words. When she was on a mission, or wearing the costume of an undercover assignment, she could be the most eloquent woman on the planet, in seven languages.

Being herself, articulating her own feelings, it was as though she had no practice with it. Steve wanted to hug her. That, of course, would probably just get him punched.

“I was so angry with him.” The assassin looked away, blinking rapidly. “We argued over who should have taken the shot. I almost hit him, I was so angry. We haven’t spoken about it and lately…”

The soldier knew the answer to that. All of them had to go pick up Clint from the floor of some dive bar at least once this week. Banner even had to go during the damn _day_ to peel their drunken Hawkeye off of the floor.

“Natasha.”

“He’s hurting.” The woman said, finally, the words bitten off of her tongue almost angrily. “He’s hurting and he won’t let me help.”

“So, don’t give him a choice.” Steve responded bluntly. “March in there, tie him to a chair if need be, and make him talk. If you need help, we’re all here. We’re a team, we look after our own.”

For the first time in days, Natasha had a small glimmer of a smile on her face. Steve shrugged one shoulder, giving her a little smirk of his own. The others might have thought him the perpetual good guy, and maybe he was, but Natasha knew him better than most.

As he passed her, he patted her shoulder lightly.

“Don’t give up on the people you love. That’s the end game.” He told her, kissing her hair affectionately and hoping she wouldn’t hit him for it. “We all go through the darkness. Just make sure he sees the light.”

She did hit him, lightly with her elbow. Steve counted that as a win in his book.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, spider-girl.”

Before either of them could say more, Pepper walked out onto the balcony. She looked as casual as ever in jeans and an old Thor t-shirt, with the cordless phone in her hand.

The concern in the blonde woman’s eyes, though, made both Steve and Natasha tense.

“It’s Clint.” Pepper said softly. Natasha was already moving before she could say another word. “He’s been arrested.”


	3. Into the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is bailed out of jail. Natasha is concerned. Steve shares a little more about Emma before his teammates interfere again.

Because she couldn’t walk in and break Clint Barton out of the drunk tank without causing some problems, Natasha was accompanied by two of her new friends when she reached the precinct where her partner was being held.

Upon hearing what was happening, Tony Stark had already pulled a jacket on by the time Pepper came out to tell her. Thor, also ready to go, was waiting at the elevator when she rushed into the common areas of the Tower. Tony insisted he could throw enough money at the problem that it’d go away and Thor’s mere presence was enough to turn people off from starting trouble most of the time.

So, it was with her god and billionaire buddies at her back that she was allowed to step into the drunk tank without issue.

Clint, for his part, lounged on the concrete ‘bed’ of his little cell. He didn’t look concerned about his predicament at all. In fact, if it wasn’t for the fist-shaped bruise already forming over his left eye, Natasha would have thought the book-in officer was crazy. This dopey bastard couldn’t have been starting fights in Times’ Square.

Then, of course, there was the singing.

“ _I like mine with lettuce and tomato! Heinz 57 and French fried potatoes! Big Kosher pickle and a cold draft beer! Well, good God, almighty, which way do I steer! Cheeseburger in paradise!”_

His drunken warble echoed off of the thick concrete walls. Natasha stood in the doorway of the cell, crossing her arms under her breasts. Behind her, she could feel movement. Stark and Thor were trying to contain their laughter. It wasn’t working.

“Clint.”

“ _Makin’ the best of virtue and vice. Worth every damn bit of sacrifice to get a cheeseburger in paradise. Cheeseburger in paradise!”_

Natasha cleared her throat again. “ _Clint_.”

Finally, the sharpshooter seemed to realize that there were visitors to his own private soundstage. He looked at Natasha from upside down, his head hanging over the edge of the concrete bed. A smile broke over that handsome face, one that clearly said he was completely amused by the situation.

“Nat!” Clint boomed his greeting, thrusting his arms out for an upside-down hug. “Did you come to spring me? I wasn’t done singing yet.”

“Oh?” The assassin replied, her eyebrow arching in interest. “What was next?”

Clint’s face screwed into a simplistic expression of concentration. She knew it was probably taking all of his mental energy to keep from falling off of the planet – though he was lying down – so she waited while he contemplated his answer.

“Oh!” Clint pointed at her, his finger swaying dangerously. “I ‘member. _Workin’ like a dog for the bossman – oh – Workin’ for the company. Oh, yeah. I’m bettin’ on the dice I’m tossin’ –oh. I’m gonna have a fantasy – oh yeah.”_

It was hard to take him seriously when he was singing an Aerosmith song and playing air-drums. From the chuckling behind her, the guys weren’t able to kill the impulse. Natasha, however, simply lowered her worst glare at Clint Barton as he rocked out to the music in his head.

_“But where am I gonna look? They tell me that love is blind! I really need a girl like an open book, to read between the lines! Love in an ELEVATOR! Livin’ it up while I’m goin’ down!”_

Mid-chorus, Clint opened his eyes again. The words faded from his lips, his expression becoming one of childish chagrin. Clint, drunk or sober, hated it when Natasha glared at him.

“Aw, man.” Hawkeye swung his legs over the edge of the concrete bed, pushing himself clumsily into a sitting position. “Fun’s over. Gotta go home.”

“Ah, let me.”

Thor politely moved Natasha out of the doorway with a gentle touch to her shoulder. Unable to speak, she stepped back into the hallway as Clint boisterously greeted their Asgardian teammate.

Tony reached out to take her arm, pulling her away from the door. She didn’t know how much money he had thrown around, but she was willing to bet there was going to be a clerical error with the charges Clint was facing, along with any data on the suspected assault. If there was video evidence, it was gone. The four people Clint had taken down in the bar would be quietly cared for.

It was almost too much.

“Hey.” Tony whispered as he took her attention from Clint trying to bribe Thor into singing with him. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Natasha lied. She kept her eyes on her friend, willing him to not see past the famous Black Widow’s mask.

“Yeah.” Tony didn’t buy it, but he didn’t press. “We’ll get him back to the Tower. No one will know he was here.”

The spy nodded once, turning when she saw Thor carrying Clint out of the drunk tank. Hawkeye was thrown over his shoulder in the manner one might carry a sack of potatoes. He was pouting.

“I told him to carry me like a bride.” Clint told Natasha. He brightened upon seeing Tony. “Stark! Hey! Everyone’s here.”

“Not exactly.” Tony shook his head, pressing his hand into Natasha’s back so she would follow Thor. “Have a good time, Barton?”

“Pfft.” Clint waved his hand in a dismissive fashion, apparently comfortable with his position over Thor’s shoulder. “I was, til the fun police showed up.”

He was still ranting as they reached the car. Thor tucked him into the front seat, buckled him and calmly closed the door. Not a minute later, the radio was blaring. Clint was rocking out in the seat, playing his air drum set and having a great time.

Natasha looked to her companions.

“I’m sorry.”

“Something is very wrong with him.” Thor spoke in his quiet way. “Could this have anything to do with…”

“Loki?” Tony chimed in, as though he understood their tall, blonde friend didn’t want to say it. “Maybe. I know I went through something like this when I thought I was dying.”

“Not like this.” Natasha cut in, stuffing her hands into the back pocket of her jeans. “Clint doesn’t do this. Maybe once or twice after a tough mission, he’ll go get drunk, get a girl and crawl home in the morning. He doesn’t start fights, go out every night for two weeks straight and act like an idiot. He could have killed those guys tonight, over a whisky. This isn’t Clint. He’s the goofy drunk, the happy guy. The anger that’s in him, this isn’t Hawk. The singing isn’t even normal, he’s a dancer.”

She stopped cold when she realized her companions were staring at her. Their looks were that of two people who just lost any ability to deal with whatever the hell was going on.

Natasha shifted uncomfortably. “What?”

Thor blinked. “I’ve never hear you speak that much.”

Tony was quick to nudge his friend in the ribs, schooling his features back to concern. “The point is, Hawkguy isn’t acting right. What do we do?”

They were both looking at her. When it came to Hawkeye and Black Widow, the team depended on them to look after one another. The others weren’t spies, they weren’t assassins. Thor, Iron Man, War Machine, Falcon, Captain America, even Hulk, they were heroes. They didn’t have the badness in their natures like Natasha and Clint.

And in this moment, Natasha had no answers.

“Listen to Cap, I guess. Take him home. Tie him to a chair.”

She turned on her heel, jogging to the front of the car. The guys said nothing when she slid into the driver’s seat. Once they were in the car, listening to Clint’s sudden adoration for Aerosmith, Natasha pointed the SUV for home.

No one said a word.

 

~~**~~

Steve watched as Emma scowled at her laptop screen. His desk, now her desk, was covered in paper, binders, folders, ink pens, metaphorical blood and frustration. He knew she was having a hard time finishing the edits for her newest novel, so he stayed well out of the firing line. A writer at work was a brilliant, baffling, terrifying creature to behold.

So, he watched, sipping at his coffee, while the love of his life struggled to make the imaginary people that occupied her head behave.

He hadn’t expected it, that night in DC. He’d gone back to the library because he grabbed the wrong volume of the historical series he was halfway through. When he walked in, it was to a book reading. _Lost_ by Emma Andrews. He hadn’t read it, but the crowd of people told him he might want to listen.

He took a seat at the back, looking up to find a pretty 30-something smiling at the crowd. She introduced herself, then read a sample passage from what she claimed was her second published novel. Steve didn’t know much about historical fiction. What she read aloud, however, convinced him that he needed to know more.

Intrigued by the girl, Steve waited through the Q&A portion of the evening, then selected a book for her to sign. He hadn’t intended to buy it, though he couldn’t just hang around like some creepy stalker wanting to talk with her.

To his dismay, she was packing up to leave by the time he screwed up the courage to say hello.

_Captain America, at my reading. I’m flushed._

_Hi. I was just returning a book, thought I’d stay._

_You’re not buying that, are you? No. Take it. I insist. Shall I sign it?_

_Yeah, thanks. Steve, by the way._

They walked out to her car, Steve remembered, talking about books. Steve promised to read his copy of _Lost_. When they parted, he realized she’d slipped her number into the book.

Steve called the next day.

“You’re staring.”

Emma’s voice brought him out of his reverie. “Can’t help it. You’re here.”

She looked up, dark eyes dancing. “I know. God. I missed the hell out of you.”

At this, Steve smiled even more broadly. “I missed you, too.”

Emma blew him a kiss. Steve exhaled softly, knowing what was coming next.

“I love you. Now, go away.”

“Yes, ma’am. Write well, babe.”

She was groaning in frustration when he stepped into the elevator. It’d been two hours since the trio of superheroes went to collect Clint from the drunk tank. When Pepper got the call – apparently the only ID Clint had on him was Tony’s business card – she explained that he was booked for being drunk in public and simple assault for starting a barroom brawl that injured six.

Clint had taken on four bouncers on his own. He was the only one standing when the cops turned up.

As he stepped into the common area, Steve heard music playing. Since it was late, he knew it would be Pepper. She didn’t like to work in the penthouse suite she shared with Tony. Steve liked to think that she preferred to be around people. This seemed logical, since Jane Foster was working on a laptop on the opposite side of the couch.

Both women were dressed down to their pajamas. In 1945, it would have been unseemly for a single man to be in the presence of single women so dressed. That, of course, was 70 years ago. Steve was used to it now.

“Ladies.” Steve said with a salute of his coffee cup.

Jane’s bright smile greeted him. “Emma kick you out?”

“Yep.” Steve chuckled. “Apparently her imaginary friends aren’t playing nice.”

“Aww,” Jane chuckled. “Come on in, we’re not doing anything special.”

“Waiting up,” Pepper chimed in without raising her eyes from her laptop. “As usual.”

He took their offer, settling on the wide, comfortable couch between the girls. He set the coffee cup between his legs, asked that Jane hand him the book he had stashed on the end table earlier in the day. When a man dated a writer, he ended up kicked out of his own place rather often. Steve stowed books almost everywhere in the Tower, so he had somewhere to retreat to.

They sat in silence for a while, each occupied by their own activities and thoughts. Steve rather liked the women his friends had taken up with. Jane Foster had a fanciful mind mixed with scientific genius. Pepper was an astute businesswoman, willing and able to do anything that the job required. Really, Tony and Thor were lucky, lucky men.

So would Clint Barton be, if he could stop feeling sorry for himself long enough.

“Miss Potts, Doctor Foster, Captain Rogers. You’re needed in the infirmary.”

The trio jumped out of their skin when the silence was broken, looking at one another in surprise. Steve slid the playing card he used as a bookmark between the pages before standing, holding a hand out to each of the women.

“This can’t be good.” Pepper murmured as they strove toward the elevator.

The doors slid open, revealing a startled Emma. She stepped back to let the others in, immediately taking Steve’s hand. Though she nodded a greeting to the other woman, Emma looked a little startled.

“It’s all hands on deck, huh?” His girlfriend asked quietly.

“I guess it’s time for Clint’s intervention.” Jane added as the doors hissed shut.

Steve exhaled slowly. _Never a dull moment_.


	4. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We glimpse a memory of Steve and Emma.
> 
> Tony and Thor return to the Tower to find things are VERY amiss.

 

 

**December 25 th, 2013**

Just as dawn was breaking over the skyline of Washington, Steve moved into the kitchen of Emma’s brownstone, smiling sleepily at the sight of the woman he loved. She was still in her pajamas, wrapped in his bathrobe to ward off the snowy Christmas morning.

With coffee already in hand, she was as he loved to see her in the morning: beautiful, sleepy, and just a little grumpy.

As Steve moved up behind her, he wrapped one arm around her waist. Emma hummed happily, turning her head to kiss his cheek lightly.

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

Smiling even more widely, the soldier kissed her shoulder lightly. He couldn’t remember a better Christmas, even if he wished Emma could be back in California with her family. They understood, of course, that she was on a deadline. They also knew that was not entirely true and that Emma wanted to spend the holiday with the boyfriend she still called “SR”.

Though he wasn’t happy with the situation, Steve knew they had to be cautious. Still, he would have given anything to be a part of that Christmas morning. Emma had four brothers, all of whom were married with children. They were all piled into her family home, and from the video chat he witnessed Christmas Eve, it would be a madhouse this morning. Love and bickering and noise and wrapping presents…someday he wanted to be a part of that.

Emma turned in his arms, clapping her hands happily. She was still sleepy, still not a morning person but the woman loved Christmas.

“I have a present for you, Mr. Rogers. It’s under the tree.”

When was the last time he had Christmas gifts under the tree?

“Go on. I’ll bring you some coffee.”

Steve turned lightly on his feet, moving through the house by memory. Emma’s place was feminine, he thought, tidy and always smelled good. His own apartment was decent, of course, and well cleaned, but it lacked a woman’s touch.

There was enough pastel in Emma’s place, though, that told Steve she needed a masculine touch.

Her tree was just at six feet tall, with a pretty star winking at the top. They decorated it together, having mulled wine and beef stew when he got back from a mission. Steve, injured and tired, couldn’t break that date with her, not when he’d already been interrupted a dozen times before.

Emma had hauled the tree in herself, she couldn’t decorate it alone.

He moved to the hearth, first, kick starting a fire expertly. Emma hated to be cold, so he tried to ensure the fire was always lit. Last Christmas, he’d been in Russia on a mission, missing her terribly. This year, he wanted to make sure everything was perfect.

Once the fire was popping merrily, Steve found Emma coming into the room. She had changed into her own bathrobe, handing Steve his. He didn’t get as cold as she did, but he pulled it on anyway. They settled in front of the tree, crossing their legs like kindergarteners, as they surveyed the neat stack of gifts under the tree.

“Ok, you first.” Emma poked him with her toe, her smile bright over the brim of her cup.

Steve had gifts from his few friends, which was surprising. Emma insisted he bring them from the post office to her place, so he had more than just hers to open. Steve started on those, eager to see what his superhero friends had thought to get him.

He hoped they liked the things he selected and sent out…

Stark sent him a t-shirt that had the Avengers logos all over it, with a note that made light of the team. Natasha even sent him a little something, a box of English toffee he liked. Banner sent a Christmas card. Surprisingly, Fury sent him a new set of boots, which were just his size. Barton sent a postcard from Nova Scotia. It was a nice gesture, getting something from his friends.

Emma’s gift to him was wrapped in pretty silver paper, which matched the blue and silver décor she had thrown onto the tree and strewn all over the brownstone. Steve opened it eagerly, watching her dark eyes dance with mirth as he did.

Under the wrapping, Steve found a heavy wooden box. He opened it curiously, his heart stuttering when he realized that inside lay an exquisite set of brushes and pencils. The lid of the box was engraved with his name.

Wordlessly, Emma reached over. She pulled on a little ribbon he hadn’t seen, lifting the tray of pencils and paint brushes. Beneath the brushes lay what appeared to be a sketchbook and a collection of parchment tied together with a ribbon.

He hadn’t exercised his artistic side in _years_. Steve ran his fingertips over the parchment, the pencils, in a sort of stunned silence. He felt the keen need to immediately take a heavy stick of charcoal to begin sketching.

“Do you like it?” Emma asked quietly. The tension in her voice made Steve realize he had been silent for too long.

“I do.” Steve answered honestly. He reached up to cup her cheek with his palm, dropping a soft kiss onto her smiling mouth. “It’s perfect. I didn’t even know I wanted this, but I do. Thank you.”

Emma’s answering smile was worth his weight in gold. Steve carefully closed the box and set it aside, motioning for her to open her gifts.

His girlfriend tore into the little pile with abandon. She laughed at a t-shirt her brother had sent her…with Captain America’s insignia on the front. There were books to be squealed over, of course, and a new journal from her mother.

When she reached the expertly wrapped present Steve had stowed under the tree, he slid a little closer.

“I know electronics are more of the thing now, but I thought I would go a bit more traditional.”

He dropped a kiss to her shoulder, where the flesh was finally bared when she shed her robe during the present blizzard. Emma tore open the wrapping eagerly, flipping open the little velvet jewelry box without hesitation.

“Oh, Steve.”

Reaching out, his girlfriend took the little locket into her hands, admiring the heart etched into the gold, with the initials EMA and SGR in the center. She found the clasp on the side, prying the little thing open without hesitation.

Her thumb reached out to stroke the miniature portrait of himself he had slid into the frame. Opposite his picture, he had a simple phrase engraved:

       “ _L_ _oving you is both my biggest weakness and my greatest strength.”_

Emma read the words aloud before she turned to him. From the tears in her eyes, Steve reckoned he had done well. She leaned forward to kiss him again, the locket clasped between her fingers.

“It’s beautiful. I love it.”

Steve found himself blushing, just a little, as he took the locket from her. He carefully closed the oval setting before draping the gold chain over her neck. Emma reached up to touch it again as he fastened it at her nape, sealing the necklace with a kiss to her skin.

“I love you, Emma.” Steve whispered, pulling her closer.

“I love you, too.”

They stayed that way, wrapped in one another’s arms, content to simply be together.

~~**~~

**Now**

 

As they left Natasha to deal with their inebriated – and musical – sharpshooter, Tony went in search of Pepper. She’d told him she would wait up, still teasing him about the Thor shirt she’d worn for their casual day at the Tower. Tony didn’t mind, not really. Jane had, upon hearing them argue, gone back to the apartment she shared with Thor to put on an Iron Man t-shirt.

The whole thing was hilariously ridiculous.

Upon reaching the common area, Tony stepped immediately toward the kitchen. He needed something strong after the harrowing drive back from the police station. When Natasha Romanoff was in a mood, she drove like a bat out of hell. He would have whiplash for a week from her entrance to the parking garage alone.

Tony was content with the silence as Thor wandered around the common areas. The large Asgardian warrior shrugged out of his jacket, moving to the couch. Tony was just reaching up to pull down a glass for his whisky when the other man spoke.

“Stark.” Thor’s voice had an edge to it, without the usual joviality. “Something is wrong.”

Tony turned, just slightly. “It’s quiet, I grant you.”

“No.” Thor was moving around the couch now, his posture and expression shifting into that of a warrior. “Jane’s laptop is still warm, but her coffee is cold.”

At this, Tony turned completely. Jane Foster did not waste coffee, especially the good Columbian blend he brought from Malibu just for her. Sensing his friend was actually on the verge of panic now, Tony set the glass on the countertop. Since everything was clean, he was willing to bet that Steve got bored. It messed with Cap’s sense of order when things were untidy.

Tony’s plan to drive him nuts with clutter was working.

He took the few steps down from the kitchen area into the living space, glancing from Jane’s abandoned laptop to the other end of the couch. Whenever they were left alone while the Avengers were out, they commandeered either sides of the couch to wait. It was something they had done every time the women were together.

As expected, Pepper’s things were left on the opposite side table. Tony could see her curled up on the couch, in her spot, with a laptop balanced on her thighs, that paperback she’d been working on in her hands.

Paperback…

Tony reached out to grasp the novel she’d been reading, startled to find the bookmark he’d gotten for her during the mission in Dubai was lying underneath it. Pepper never forgot to bookmark her page, it drove her insane to try and relocate the page. Since time was always precious to her, she liked to read fast. Searching for the page…

“Jarvis.”

Tony called out for his computer, setting the book down. “Jarvis, locate Pepper and Jane.”

“That is odd.” Thor offered, moving toward the elevator. “Everything seems to be in working order.”

Tony frowned, moving to the glass console that acted as a ‘keyboard’ to enter commands into the smart-house system. Everything on the panel worked, electricity, heating, lighting, everything seemed fine.

But calling up Jarvis was blocked.

“Someone hijacked the system.”

With that, Tony turned to sprint for the elevator.

“They only took out the artificial intelligence command center.” Thor said as they slid into the elevator. “They left the building operations intact.”

“Which tells me something fishy is going on.” Tony replied, staring at the bank of buttons that were now required to move the elevator. “Why didn’t I notice when we rode up?”

Thor shrugged one shoulder. “Clint hit all the buttons, remember? Natasha almost punched him.”

Recalling that moment was enough for a fleeting smile to dart over Tony’s mouth. They had to stop at 36 floors before Tony and Thor could get out at the common areas. Widow was still seething as the doors closed to take them up to the 44th, where Clint lived.

“Right.”

“Where are we going?”

“Infirmary.” Tony said immediately. “If I wanted to get a group of stragglers together, I’d call them all to the infirmary.”

Thor nodded his agreement, stepping back as the elevator doors hissed shut.

“Of course. Infirmary implies someone is harmed or in need of attention. They would have abandoned their pursuits immediately. Why, though? Why would anyone want to gather Jane and Pepper?”

“Maybe it’s not the girls,” Tony murmured thoughtfully. “Banner’s out with Betty, but Cap’s still here. He might be the target.”

Thor nodded. “Or the new girl…Emma.”

Tony looked away, his heart beating faster in his chest. Had someone hurt Pepper? Were they still here? Was everything alright? Who had disabled Jarvis?

So many questions. Tony stared at his own reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator, hoping that a trip to the infirmary would give him answers.

~~**~~

 As the elevator doors opened, Tony immediately stepped out.

“Pepper?”

He called for his girlfriend, then released a startled yelp. Losing his footing after colliding with something heavy and warm on the floor, Tony pulled up short. Thor’s massive hands kept him from tumbling in an embarrassing fashion, but he was confused as to what forced him to need help.

Until he looked down.

“Emma?”

Crouching with Thor’s help, Tony looked over what appeared to be an unconscious woman. Emma’s dark hair was splashed over her face, but there did not seem to be any visible blood. Tony reached down to press his fingers to her throat.

A weak, but steady thrumming told him she was alive.

He looked up, spying a familiar blonde head lying beside one of the exam tables. Turning to Thor, Tony stepped over Emma’s prone form, rushing the few feet to Pepper’s side.

“Pep?”

“Jane?” Thor had found Jane some feet away. The younger woman was always close to Pepper, so it was no surprise that he found her not far away. “She’s breathing.”

Pepper’s beautiful face was placid, as though she were sleeping. Tony lifted her into his arms, one hand on her chest to feel the languid beat of her heart. Pepper always seemed to sleep lightly, she woke at the slightest movement. Tony always thought it was a symptom of sleeping beside someone with a raging case of PTSD after flying a nuke through a wormhole.

 _Einstein-Rosen Bridge, Stark_.

Thinking of the other woman, Tony looked up. “How’s her pulse?”

Thor frowned, his massive form holding onto his tiny girlfriend. “I’m not sure how human physiology works, it appears to be about 90 beats a minute.”

Tony weighed that information for a moment. “That’s a little slow. Pepper’s is, too.”

He settled his lover down gently, moving back to Emma at a crouch. The dark haired woman had not moved. Tony felt for her pulse again. “Slow, thready. I hope she doesn’t have some weird medical problem. Do you see Cap?”

“Stark.”

At Thor’s concerned tone, Tony immediately turned. He found his friend standing at the entrance to the medical laboratory, looking confused. Tony jogged over, peering around the taller man to see inside.

“Well, that’s not good.”

The laboratory was destroyed. It looked as though a bomb had gone off, without the after-effect of fire. Beakers and tubes and syringes littered the floor. The exam bed was askew and the cabinets dented.

“Looks like the Captain had a row in here.”

Tony shivered. There was a smear of blood over one wall.

“We need to get the others.”

Thor nodded.

“Someone has taken our Captain.”


	5. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma awakes to bad news. Clint and Natasha have a moment. We glimpse at Steve's current condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I am SO sorry about the late update. I was away for the holidays and work and being ill and...
> 
> More often, I promise.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Steve.”

Emma came awake suddenly, gasping for breath as though she’d been held under water a moment too long. She coughed as that first inhalation tickled the back of her throat, which was too-dry and achy. Her head swam unpleasantly, reminding her of the Friday night frat parties she had attended in College Station, when A&M was trying to educate her.

She rolled almost immediately, catching herself from falling off of the bed at the last moment.

“Steve?”

She called for her boyfriend again, wondering why there was a peculiar ache in her chest. Emma hadn’t felt anything like that before. It was as though she were worried and panicked, but she couldn’t actually _feel_ either of those things.

What the hell was going on?

“Emma?”

Looking up, Emma’s vision swam. She could see the blurred, familiar outline of Doctor Banner, his calming voice sounding as though he were under water. Emma shook her head, surprised when he grasped her chin, shone a penlight into her eyes.

“What’s happening?” She asked sluggishly. “Steve?”

“Emma, can you hear me?” Banner asked gently.

“Yeah. Sort of.” The woman replied, shying away from the light again. “What’s going on? Where is Steve?”

Banner did not reply. That sick, panicky feeling that was already attempting to clench her heart only got worse. Something had obviously happened to her. She was injured or sick or something. Where would Steve had gone? He wouldn’t have just left her…was there a mission?

“Bruce. Talk to me.” The woman asked of her ‘doctor’. “Did I get hurt or something?”

Steve’s friend sighed softly. “Emma, what’s the last thing that you can remember?”

She paused, sitting up slowly on the bed. After a moment, Emma realized she wasn’t on the bed she shared with Steve in his apartment. She was most definitely in the infirmary.

The infirmary…

“Jarvis told me to get into the elevator. Everyone was being called into the infirmary.” Her words were slow, her thought process disjointed. The memory of Steve’s hand casually interlinked with hers made her stare at her fingers, as though she could see him still there, still holding her.

“Pepper, Jane, and Steve were called. We went in the elevator. Everyone else was still gone.” Emma sighed, taking the water Banner handed her. The cool liquid soothed her scratchy throat, she was able to clear it with a vibration of her esophagus, which made speech much easier.

“It was empty. The infirmary. There wasn’t anyone there. But the door locked, Steve was trying to break it down. Pepper saw the gas, there was some sort of gas coming in from the vent.” Emma’s heartrate accelerated, the monitor she hadn’t noticed before began to chirp. Her breathing hitched, as though the memory trying to break to the surface was preemptively scaring her.

“Steve covered my mouth, told the girls to get down, but the window…someone came in through the window. Oh, god. Pepper. Jane. I passed out. Steve. Steve was fighting. Bruce, where is Steve?”

When the man did not answer, Emma blinked several times. Her vision was slowly coming into focus. Behind the rim of his glasses, Emma could see the sorrow, the worry. The echo of a memory surfaced slowly. Emma remembered falling to the floor in front of the electronically locked door, Pepper calling for Jarvis, Steve shouting at the girls to run.

“Oh, God.” Emma’s hand reached up to clutch at the locket still clasped about her throat. “Bruce. Where is Steve?”

For his part, the doctor appeared to be upset, having to give this news. Of course, he liked Steve, it was almost impossible to not like Steve Rogers. It was in that moment, though, that Emma realized how much the team they called the Avengers depended on their spangly Captain.

“We don’t know.” Bruce said quietly. “Tony tried to locate his tracking beacon, but Jarvis is still disabled.”

She wanted to scream, to rage, to jump up and physically pull the world apart, brick by brick. Steve would do that, she thought. He would call the team to assemble, then rush about to find her, smashing anything in his way with the blunt end of his shield.

Steve Rogers was a soldier, a warrior. Nothing in him would allow anything short of wading into battle to save the people he loved.

But Emma was none of those things.

Bruce kept telling her to calm down. Emma realized a little too late that she had lapsed into a panic attack. Bruce had to try three times to slide the respirator over her face so she wouldn’t lose consciousness again from lack of oxygen.

There were tears coursing down her eyes as she tried to focus on something, anything in the infirmary that would soothe her worries.

Through the window leading into the medical lab, though, Emma saw the streak of blood.

“Steve.” Her voice was muffled by the breathing apparatus, but she spoke anyway. “Find Steve, Bruce. Now.”

 

~**~

 

Clint watched his group of friends from what was affectionately called ‘the perch’.

One beam, just a few feet in width, stretched across the northern corner of the common areas. Stark said, when they all first saw the Tower, that it concealed some sort of wiring for Jarvis. All Clint had seen when he laid eyes on it was a perfect vantage point.

As he sat on the beam, long legs stretched out in front of him, with his arms crossed over his chest. From here, he could see everyone not still in the infirmary.

Though Pepper and Jane were medically cleared once the nerve gas cleared their symptoms, he overheard Jane telling Thor that Emma ended up having to be sedated. Her asthma, which no one knew about, had flared at the gas and that hearing her boyfriend was missing. Banner was still with her.

From where he sat, Clint watched Stark battling with a still-malfunctioning Jarvis. As it had been when they pulled Clint out of the drunk tank, everything but the AI’s vocal command system worked flawlessly. From inside of Tony’s suit, Jarvis worked just fine. Trying to get him online at the Tower mainframe, however, seemed to be putting a touch more gray into the billionaire-genius’ dark hair.

Pepper worked with him, attempting commands at Tony’s insistence whenever he tweaked something. Iron Man himself laid on the floor, half inside a control panel that was only revealed by lifting a large section of flooring. Thor had watched for a moment before moving to the table where Jane was searching for any unusual activity on what was left of SHIELD’s traffic.

So far, no one knew anything.

When he had woken that morning to find all hell had broken loose, Clint slid back into silence. He wasn’t one to blame himself for things he couldn’t control, but at the moment it was hard to not find fault with himself. Most of the muscle hadn’t been in the building when it was ransacked of a captain, leaving three civilian women at the mercy of whomever had come to find Steve.

If he hadn’t been hell-bent on self-destruction, no one would have had to leave to bail him out. Would that have made a difference? Clint figured that after they had basically saved the world, it probably would.

Though he was still flogging himself for their missing teammate and the events that led to a fight where he out more than one person in the ER, Clint knew when Natasha was approaching his favorite hiding spot.

“Hey, Bird Brain.”

At her voice, Clint instinctively moved to the left, allowing for a precious 6 inches of space for Natasha’s ridiculously nimble feet. She scooted along the minimal purchase easily, gliding with balletic grace he was sure no other creature could match. When she was able to find enough room for her backside, Natasha slid onto the beam with her legs swinging over the edge.

“Sobered up?” she asked quietly as she stared over the common areas.

Clint merely grunted.

They sat in silence a few more moments. Clint couldn’t look at her, though he could feel that heavy emerald gaze flick from him to the assembled Avengers below. He knew what she wanted to talk about, the dreams that sent him head first into a bottle. He wasn’t stupid enough to think Natasha didn’t know about the nightmares, she knew him better than anyone, could read his expression better than he could.

He couldn’t talk about it, though, especially not with her. Knowing Natasha as he did meant that he knew one of her greatest fears was to be turned into the thing the KGB set out to. In a quiet night after a particularly harrowing mission, Natasha whispered that she feared becoming that weapon, turning on the people she loved. On him. Clint couldn’t tell her that those very fears lived in him, that Loki had used that to compromise him in a way that nothing and no one else could.

How could he do that to her?

She shifted, just slightly. Clint couldn’t help it, his eyes automatically went to her face at the movement. That lovely mouth was twisted into a small frown, her deep eyes drawn in an expression that spoke of tension, of pain. Clint knew how hard she would take losing Steve. The two were so close that it had, occasionally, made Clint insane with petty, ridiculous jealousy.

“Nat.”

She shook her head, just slightly, all that fiery hair shifting so that one errant lock curled at her nape. He leaned forward, unable to help himself, to tuck that teasingly rebellious lock back where it belonged.

“He’s ok.” Clint offered softly. “Steve’s strong.”

Still, the Black Widow said nothing.

“Nat.”

“I’m fine.” Natasha practically spat the word, proving in two syllables that she was definitely not fine.

Clint heaved a heavy sigh, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. The tension between them was uncommon, bordering on rare. There were times, of course, when Natasha and Clint disagreed. When this happened, they dealt with it and overcame whatever obstacle there was. He understood she was still upset about the bullet he’d tried to take from her in Phoenix during their last mission and that his recent behavior was confusing.

This time, however, he wasn’t sure he could fix what was broken.

Moving slightly, Clint folded his legs together until he could scoot closer to the woman he readily spent his life with. There was no friend, no partner that could compare to Natasha. Her skill as an assassin and a spy didn’t factor in, not really. Natasha proved time and time again that she loved her bird brain, no matter what. If the world fell down around him, Clint always knew that Natasha was there for him, even if he couldn’t express it.

He lifted a hand, fingers lost in the silken curls of her red hair, until his palm cupped her cheek. Natasha was slow to raise her eyes, but she leaned into his touch as though pulled beyond her will.

“I’m still here.” Clint whispered, leaning until he could rest his forehead against hers. “I’m still here, even if I am lost.”

Natasha spoke with emotion drenching her tone. “Let me help you find your way back.”

“You are.” Clint insisted. “I promise.”

~**~

He could hear her voice, drifting in and out of his consciousness. That rich tone, the soothing way she said his name. It was how she liked to wake him, slowly and sweetly. Unless they were late. If they were late, Steve was likely to get cold water dumped over his head, the bedding be damned.

_Steve_.

She said it again, bringing his mind to half-awake. The pain filtered in then, the discomfort of lying on something hard. Steve tried to move his arms, tried to remember the feeling of falling asleep. Where had he gone to sleep?

_Emma! Run! Pepper! Jane!_

He heard his own voice now, calling out to the women he called his friends. The stark fear gripped at his heart, backed up by a memory that was still just out of reach. Why the fear? Why was he telling Emma to run?

Steve remembered her falling to the floor, with Pepper and Jane not far behind. His eyes snapped open, arms pulling at the restraints keeping him pinned to what felt like an exam table. Steve immediately struggled, without even really understanding what he was fighting.

Then, there were shapes moving toward him. Whatever they used to dose him was strong, Steve could hardly make out that the creatures shuffling closer were even humanoid. A bright light switched on over his head, further blinding him so that his ears began to ring.

When he tried to speak, Steve found there was some sort of plastic piece shoved between his teeth.

“Be calm, Captain Rogers.” The oily, unfamiliar voice was right by his ear, but Steve could not make out a face. “This will only hurt for a moment.”

He felt a strange sensation of cold sliding up the veins of his right arm, chased by a feeling of something intensely hot. Within seconds, Steve arched his back off of the exam table, struggling to scream as his veins boiled from within.

With one, fleeting thought of Emma and the Avengers, Steve promptly blacked out.

 

 

 


End file.
